Comfortable
by Sailor Seraphim
Summary: Duo Maxwell wakes up on a not-so-normal day, and his breakfast is interrupted by a very pleasant surprise. A birthday fic written for Sharon.


Title: Comfortable (1/1)  
Author: Sailor Seraphim (slrsera @ aol.com)  
Archive:   
l.e.t.h.a.l.t.h.o.u.g.h.t.s. ::   
FanFiction.net ::   
Final Triumph ::   
Emy's Archive ::   
All others please ask.  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did, the series would be chock-full of tasty shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.  
Pairings: 2+1  
Warnings: Utter fluff and sap, and general good vibes. Also, cereal.  
Spoilers: Absolutely none. Well, this takes place years after Endless Waltz.  
Notes: A birthday fic for Sharon! Yay! Okay, so it's a bit late, but it's still a present! And... uhm, yes, I named the band that for a reason. *pokes Sharon*  
Feedback: I take all constructive criticism. No flames, they leave nasty scorch marks on the carpet.  
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I have to admit that I never saw it coming.  
  
It was an ordinary Friday morning, and the only thing that really set it off from the day before was the fact that it was my day off. The Preventers kept active agents on a sort of rotating schedule when we weren't actively working of a case, and I'd actually cleared up my last one on Wednesday. One day of paperwork later and, lo and behold, I got time off. So I was kicking back, having my "day off" breakfast, which consisted pretty much of sugary cereal in milk and buttered toast. I'd even indulged and poured myself a small glass of orange juice to go with my meal. Normally, I ran out of the apartment with an energy bar in one hand and picked up coffee at the corner cafe on my way to HQ. Believe me, cereal and toast was damn near a luxury to me.  
  
I'd woken up to an empty bed, but that wasn't all that surprising. Like I said, the Preventers had a rotating schedule, and Heero was still working on an active case. I had a sneaky feeling that Lady Une kept us on different schedules for a reason... but that incident in the break room only happened once. ONCE! And I mean, really, who just stands there and watches instead of breaking up the free show? That reminds me... I'm going to have to talk to Noin about that. So Heero not being home wasn't so bad; sure I missed him like hell, but we'd both learned to work with our schedules. We made sure to have dinner out once a week, come hell or high water... even if "out" meant sitting next to the other in the medical wing of Preventers HQ and chowing down on burgers and fries.  
  
So, fully in "day off" mode, I slouched blearily into the kitchen. I was expecting... well, nothing. There were groceries in the fridge, the laundry was done, and the bills had all been paid. Absolutely nothing for me to do. That's why I was skulking about in a pair of faded sweatpants and an old shirt. They'd both seen some rough times; the sweats had been washed so much that they had faded from the original black to a strange blue-gray color, and the elastic was nearly gone from around the waist. I usually had to tug the damn things back up over my ass after I took two steps. The shirt wasn't much better; I had ripped the sleeves and collar off a long time ago, and it was so frayed around the edges that I was always amazed when it came out of the wash in mostly one piece. It was so faded that you could barely see the logo emblazoned on the front for "Devious Rapture," an underground band from L2 that never did quite make it big. I still listened to their music occasionally, but I pretty much kept the shirt just because.  
  
The first time Heero saw me in this outfit -- which happened to be the morning after we made love for the first time, but I'm not gonna go into that now -- he gave me the strangest look. Hey, it was the first thing I could find that didn't constrict, and damn, was I sore that morning. It wasn't until later, after we had moved in together and he had watched me reverently folding my shirt and sweats after another miraculous trip through the wash that he asked.  
i"Duo?"  
  
"Yeah, Heero?"   
  
"... do you really wear those?"  
  
"Huh? Yeah. I mean, why wouldn't I?"  
  
"..."  
  
"Let's face it, you're in love with a packrat. I don't hardly throw things out if I can still use 'em."  
  
"So you're going to keep wearing that shirt and those pants until they literally fall off you."  
  
"Yup, pretty much. Got a problem with it?"  
  
"No. Just asking."/i  
Now, I don't know why I'm getting so sentimental over a beat-up old shirt and a ratty pair of sweats. I guess it's one of those things I'm still getting used to. You know, actually having a place to call home, four walls that I can fill up with things that won't be stolen in the middle of the night or ripped from my grasp. Sometimes I felt so strange, having to remind myself that I didn't have to stretch everything until it screamed, that now I had a job and a life and a lover, and that I could *buy* something new whenever I felt like it. Hell, I'd pretty much lived out of a duffle bag -- or less -- my whole life; being domestic with Heero Yuy isn't something I'd dreamt about. But here I was, sitting in the kitchen with my bowl of soggy cereal, wishing that my lover were home so that he could poke fun at my taste in clothes.  
  
So when the front door opened, I was sort of surprised to see Heero standing there, still wearing his Preventer uniform and carrying two large bags in his hands. One was a regular brown paper bag, the kind you get from a grocery store, except that Heero was holding the bag sideways in both hands. Hanging from his left elbow was a fancy bag from the department store a few blocks from the apartment, and from the way it swung, there was something bulky in it. But before I could do anything (like put down my spoon), Heero had kicked the door closed behind him and was standing at the other end of our small table. Without saying one word, Heero slid a large white box out of the brown paper bag and laid it carefully down on the table in front of me. He folded the bag into quarters, set it aside, and then opened the box.  
  
There, sitting in front of me and my cereal, was a cake. It was covered with white frosting loops and swirls and had yellow frosting roses at the corners. Across the top of the cake, in a fancy script, were the words: HAPPY BIRTHDAY.   
  
A birthday cake.   
  
The kind you can find in the grocery store refrigerators.   
  
Heero had bought me a birthday cake at 8 'o clock in the morning. I just sat staring at the sugary monstrosity, only snapping out of my daze when Heero reached over to stick two candles on the cake. One was shaped like the number one, the other a nine.   
  
A quick strike of a match had both candles burning cheerfully, and I looked up at Heero in askance.  
  
"It's your birthday, isn't it?" Heero said in that way that really wasn't a question, but a declaration of fact. "We talked about birthdays last year when neither of us had one. You said today would be your birthday."  
  
"Heero," I muttered, still staring at the cake, "I can't believe you remembered."  
  
"Why wouldn't I? This is important, isn't it?"  
  
Then Heero reached into the department store bag and pushed a brightly wrapped box with a big bow into my lap  
  
"Happy Nineteenth Birthday, Duo," he said to me with a slight smile, and kissed me quickly on the lips. I think I must have still been in shock, because Heero just gave me a strange sort of smirk. "Aren't you going to open your present?"  
  
Coming quickly to my senses, I gave a mad sort of laugh and ripped into the large box. It hadn't made any weird clunking sounds and it wasn't that heavy, so I honestly couldn't figure out what my gift was. Of course, the idea that Heero would buy me a present -- even if it was for my birthday -- was still bouncing around my brain like a spastic rabbit. The wrapping paper was shredded beneath my hands, fluttering to the carpet along with the bow. Then I yanked off the lid, tossed it over my shoulder, tore through what seemed like miles of tissue paper, and froze.  
  
There, nestled in pastel colored tissue paper, was a new "Devious Rapture" shirt and a pair of sweats.  
  
I looked up quickly to see Heero standing with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had loosened his tie and seemed to be cool and nonchalant about the whole thing. But I knew better and could see the nervous sort of glitter in his blue eyes.  
  
"Do you like them?" he asked me, still trying to act unaffected by my lengthy silence. "I know you like the ones you have now, but the washing machine is acting funny again and--"  
  
I shut Heero up the best way I knew how, by tackling him to the ground and kissing the hell out of him. And when we both came up for air, our faces flushed and our breaths heavy, I grinned at Heero.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"Duo, it's just a shirt--"  
  
I shut him up again.  
  
And damn, I never saw it coming, but it was the best birthday ever.  
-- Owari -- 


End file.
